


In Spite Of Everything

by Mercurial_Magic



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Barebacking, Canon Era, Established Relationship, Happy Ending (sort of), Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Angst, Mild Feminization, Romance, Rough Sex, Shame, Size Kink, Smut, Taboo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-29
Updated: 2015-09-29
Packaged: 2018-04-24 00:19:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4897885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mercurial_Magic/pseuds/Mercurial_Magic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He wants Merlin to stop him, to make it impossible for him to continue, but Merlin is always compliant, always makes it easy. It's <i>wrong</i>. It's depraved and disgraceful, unthinkable to indulge in; but that reality is never enough to deter him from running his hands under Merlin's tunic, down over his smooth thighs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Spite Of Everything

**Author's Note:**

> This is total filth, honestly. It turned out a few hundred words longer than I planned (what's new?), but I enjoyed writing every word. Hope you like it!
> 
> Tagged with 'Homophobia' because homosexuality is regarded as highly immoral/taboo to the characters and such (there's no abuse or physical conflict because of it).

He wants Merlin to stop him, to make it impossible for him to continue, but Merlin is always compliant, always makes it easy.

It's  _wrong_. It's depraved and disgraceful, unthinkable to indulge in; but that reality is never enough to deter him from running his hands under Merlin's tunic, down over his smooth thighs.

Merlin lets it all unfold, lidded eyes silently conveying his desire. He never halts Arthur's actions, never seems to hold any hesitance in his gaze at all. He's wanting, unafraid of what they're doing, or of Arthur finally having enough self-control to put an end to it. He responds carefully, for Arthur's sake he lets the pace be in his Prince's hands. But he's willing and eager, tells him with lingering kisses and shifting hips.

Deviant as it is there's no doubt it's consensual. There's something twisted in both of them that they can't tame enough to keep this from happening time and time again. That much is apparent, and yet a part of Arthur still feels  _guilt_ , like it's ultimately his responsibility to make the right decision. After all, he's the one that received an extensive education as an individual of noble standing; he was taught such things were deeply immoral, he knows better.

And so does Merlin. But perhaps, as a commoner, the weight of committing such a sin wasn't ever properly explained to him. It's the only reason Arthur can conceive to explain his manservant's consistent lack of compunction over the matter. Said servant seeks out his mouth, and Arthur hushes the part of himself that insists he's taking advantage.

With Merlin beneath him, panting and disheveled, he takes a moment to marvel at him. His hole is wet, unnaturally stretched; what was once hidden and private has been rudely breached, opening to every inch of Arthur's impressive girth. Merlin's own length is hard and shiny against his stomach. The sight of him makes Arthur salivate. Merlin hardly touches himself at the start of their coupling, just takes it with a furrowed brow and a slack jaw, devotes his attention sorely to the sensation of Arthur slowly pressing in and out of him. He's so small inside, and yet somehow Arthur has managed to fit. He wonders if it hurts. Merlin doesn't complain, not even when the slow roll of his hips becomes rough and demanding. He just clutches Arthur's shoulders and shifts his knees up further, lets Arthur kiss and suck at his neck as he ruts  _in, in, in_.

Arthur doesn't want it to hurt, not really, but he can't deny that the whimpers leaving Merlin's pout feed his hunger until the desperation to  _claim_  is all but consuming him.

Merlin makes it so easy. When Arthur draws back too far he's instantly grabbing at him with nimble fingers, holding himself open with one hand as his other guides Arthur's cockhead back to his hole. The sight is obscene; he's eager for more, as needy as Arthur is for him and all that he has to offer.

Arthur's thickness sinks back inside with a wet noise that leaves him breathless. Merlin is tight, as plush and slick as any maiden he's had. He savors the velvet heat around him, large hands spreading Merlin's thighs wider so he can bury himself deeper. His sack meets Merlin's damp skin as he fills the boy to capacity.

Anyone would say that he's violating Merlin, degrading him as a man with such wickedness, but they've both proven incapable of resisting this backwards union. He withdraws steadily, the delicious pull of Merlin's hole around him ripping a moan out of them both. Merlin looks at him dazed, like the whole of his existence has zeroed in on their joining, like their intimacy has him lost to the world, if only temporarily. And that's just the way things should be. Merlin's attention and fidelity is akin to his position as eventual monarch; rightfully his, but something to be earned and cherished.

He thrusts faster until he's taking him with such vigor that Merlin's nearly bouncing on him, hands gripping his biceps as Arthur's hips piston forward between the shameless spread of his legs. Were Merlin a woman, his breasts would be bouncing from the force of every stroke inside him. Arthur runs his hand across a flat pectoral, unsure whether it's terribly wrong or utterly exquisite that Merlin's nipples are just as rosy and soft to the touch as a woman's, that they're everything Arthur thought a man's shouldn't and  _couldn't_  be. He watches that lithe body writhe beneath him, the perfect picture of debauchery.

" _Merlin_..."

With a soft curse, Merlin's hand finally finds his swollen length and begins tugging with firm strokes that reveal the leaking head of his cock with every downward motion. Arthur wills himself to go slower, sacrifice speed for more depth and strength so he won't finish too soon, before Merlin does. He doubts it has escaped Merlin's notice at this point, but the satisfaction he gets watching Merlin come as he's fucked makes his arousal peak higher than anything else.

He takes everything in, greedily; the pinched expression on Merlin's flushed face, the small arch of his back as pleasure hits him full force, the choked moan that sounds like it might be his name. He can feel Merlin's insides clenching around him as he watches the first spurt of seed paint his heaving chest.

He can hold back no longer. He grips Merlin's hips, pulls that slender body down on his cock, perversely enjoying Merlin's obvious over-sensitivity. His harsh breath is almost as loud as the rapid smack of their skin meeting, and with a stuttering groan he spills deep inside Merlin's arsehole-turned-cunt.

It feels almost like dying, he thinks. The intensity shoves him over the edge, blocking everything out for a perennial moment of mindless ecstasy.

But Merlin is there, gradually drawing him back, anchoring him with hushed encouragements and fervent kisses. Even after his hips have stopped rocking, Merlin's hips roll languidly on him, emptying him of all he has as he comes back to himself piece by piece.

Merlin makes it as easy as he can; he holds Arthur's head to his chest, runs his fingers through blond tresses and keeps the heart-pounding shame he knows isn't far off for Arthur at bay for a bit longer. After a few minutes, he cleans and dresses himself without a word, then promptly strips the bed and puts the new sheets he'd prepared beforehand in place. Everything left neat and perfectly proper, he slips away for the evening to give Arthur the space he doesn't want but ultimately needs.

Arthur will be up until dawn trying to cope with the aftermath, to quiet the familiar panic threatening to spill out into the other corners of his life, and come morning he'll be so ashamed he won't be able to meet anyone's eye. Least of all his father's when he notices his pallor and suggests he see the physician if he's feeling ill (and when he imagines the look of revulsion his father would pin him with if he  _knew_ , he thinks ill is exactly what he feels). By nightfall his inner turmoil will remain crawling under his skin, tying his stomach in knots. Right up until the door opens and Merlin is by his side again.

Merlin who will treat him with a gentleness that will break him apart a bit further so it can right him once more. Merlin who will coax him out of his wretched solitude with patience and care, unfazed by any callous words Arthur might say but not mean.

Arthur will let himself be held and soothed like he's never been by anyone else, feel his anxiety begin to ease at the very presence of his servant, his friend, his  _lover_. Emotionally exhausted and uncharacteristically fragile, he'll let the sound of Merlin's voice nattering on about some ridiculous, made-up sounding story lull him into something like calmness. And eventually, somehow, he'll find himself cracking a small smile. Merlin, genuine and ever-warm, will smile back without any reserve like always, and suddenly he'll be able to breathe again.

"Arthur..."

Eyes shining with a fierce devotion Arthur has never quite felt worthy of, Merlin will grab his hand and leave a chaste kiss against his palm. The resounding ache of fondness in Arthur's chest will be both a comfort and a burden.

Merlin makes it easier to keep going, in spite of everything.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Check out my [tumblr](http://merlinslittlebottom.tumblr.com/) if you'd like.


End file.
